“Good,” the attorney remarked with a nod.
“That is a rather strange response from a lawyer,” I noted with a light chuckle.
“It means you are actually thinking carefully before making a massive life promise,” he explained thoughtfully.
“I am starting to understand how important that is,” I told him quietly.
One quiet evening, I walked up the hill to Simon’s grave in Oakwood Cemetery and gently placed the old photograph of the two young brothers resting against his headstone.
“You found him too late,” I said quietly, looking down at his name carved in the stone. “But you found Leo, and you made sure he wasn’t abandoned.”
My hand rested gently against my stomach as our unborn baby kicked softly.
“So did I,” I whispered with a faint smile. “I am doing this my way, Simon.”
That was the true gift he had left behind for me in the end. It was not an unexpected burden, nor a forced obligation. It was a genuine choice.
